Believer
by sweetgirl8353
Summary: Elizabeth Samuell is like her grandmother, Madeline Crawfor-Linely, in many ways. She too left the world she was born into and traveled to another one. But she did not travel to Aslan's Country. Oh no, she traveled back in time to the Golden Age of Narnia
1. Chapter 1

Believer 

**The sequel to Disbeliever. Elizabeth Samuell is the granddaughter of Madeline Crawford-Linley. And all her life she has believed in fairy tales and magic. All her life she has waited for her dashing Prince Charming to come and sweep her off her feet. **

**But what happens when Madeline is transported to a whole new world entirely? A world that isn't as charming as it should be and a world where her Prince Charming is the High King and engaged to another. What will Elizabeth do then? **

**Will she break as her world crumbles around her or will she become as strong as her grandmother was? **

**Find out in "Believer!" **

"_Happiness is like those palaces in __fairy tales__ whose gates are guarded by dragons: we must fight in order to conquer it.__" - __Alexandre Dumas Père_

_--_

"_Grandma! What happened next?" Eight year old Elizabeth demanded tugging on Madeline's sleeve as Madeline was pulled from her trance. She smiled down at her youngest granddaughter and cleared her throat._

"_Oh, right, where was I?"_

_Elizabeth smiled and quickly explained._

"_You were just at the part after Aslan had crowned the Pevensie's!"_

_Madeline smiled and nodded._

"_Yes, and then all of Cair Paravel erupted in cheers, shouting. Long Live King Peter! Long Live Queen Susan! Long Live King Edmund! Long Live Queen Lucy! And so, right there and then, the Golden Age of Narnia had begun."_

_Elizabeth dreamily sighed as she stared forward at the portrait of four monarchs standing before their thrones._

"_Is that them?" she asked, though in her heart, she knew the answer. Madeline followed her gaze and nodded._

"_Why, yes my dear it is. Queen Lucy the Valliant, King Edmund the Just, Queen Susan the Gentle and King Peter the Magnificent."_

_Her crinkled eyes swept over the young kings and queens faces and she couldn't help but let her eyes stray to the face of the dark haired king._

"_And what happened next?" Elizabeth demanded, knowing there had to be more to the story. It couldn't just end there._

"_A story for another time." Madeline reply, patting her granddaughter on the head as Elizabeth pouted. The two heard footsteps from behind them as Elizabeth's mother, Lillian, came barging into the room._

"_Beth time to go. Where you telling her that story again?" Lillian asked exasperated of her mother who innocently shrugged._

"_Oh, but mommy do we have to?" Elizabeth whined coming to her mother's side as Lillian nodded._

"_Yes, we do, we have to get ready for Uncle Edmund's party."_

"_But I don't want to leave grandma!"_

"Grandma…don't leave…" Nineteen year old Elizabeth Samuell murmured in her sleep as she rolled onto her side and hid her head in her fluffy pillow.

"Shut up Liz!" Her roommate, Hadrienne Berr, muttered from across the room as she burrowed herself farther into her cocoon of warmness. At the sound of Hadrienne's annoyed voice Elizabeth was pulled from her sleep as she blinked rapidly and sat up, wiping her eyes.

"Not again." she whispered aloud, the image of her Grandma Madeline still flickering in her mind. She remembered that day as if it had happened minutes ago instead of eleven years ago.

That day had been the last time Elizabeth had ever seen her beloved Grandma Madeline.

For just after Elizabeth and her mother had left her grandma she had been hit by a car.

Elizabeth shuddered just thinking of how awful it must have been. Her grandma hadn't even seen it coming.

She vehemently shook her head as her Grandma Madeline faded away to the dark corners of her mind. She yawned and stretched her limbs as she looked to her alarm clock and gasped.

It was seven forty-two!

She was late!

She jumped up from the twin bed and began scrambling about the room trying to get ready in time to catch the eight o'clock Chunnel Eurostar train heading to London.

"Be quiet!" Hadrienne hissed from her little corner as Elizabeth paused in slipping on her jeans and took the time to glare at her roommate.

"Quiet?! How can I be quiet! It was your job to wake me up! I'm going to be late thanks to you!"

All the answer she received from her lazy bunkmate was a shrug, or what appeared to be a shrug, it was hard to tell due to the excessive amount of comforters, quilts and pillows.

Elizabeth hurriedly pulled on a turtleneck and wrapped a scarf around her neck as she hopped around trying to put her flats on. Her straight red hair fell back behind her shoulders as she grabbed a hair tie and wasted no time in placing it in a braid.

When she was properly dressed and not looking like quite a mess she reached for her suitcase and swung it over her shoulder as she headed to the door. She was almost out the door when Hadrienne's sleepy voice called out.

"Don't forget your notebook."

Elizabeth froze mid-step and with a huff of exasperation went back into the room and grabbed her spiral blue notebook that she carted around everywhere. The notebook was her life.

"Thanks." she spat out through gritted teeth and she swore she could see Hadrienne giggled from beneath her wall of protection.

She left Hadrienne and sprinted through the hallways of her dormitory, racing down steps and nearly plowing down innocent bystanders. She ran out into the crisp French air as she hurried through the Sorbonne campus heading to the Channel Tunnel.

She didn't allow herself to slow her pace or take a breather as she pushed herself harder and harder. If she missed the train she knew she would receive hell from her strict mother.

Lillian Samuell didn't accept excuses no matter how probably they were. Excuse was not in her vocabulary or her internal dictionary.

Elizabeth silently cursed the heavens and then took it back because she was not in the mood to have God's wrath upon her.

It would not be pleasant if that occurred.

No, not pleasant at all.

She continued on and nearly cried with relief when the entrance to the Channel Tunnel came into view. She raced down the stone steps not even bothering to apologize to those she rammed into.

She bought her ticket and boarded the high tech passenger train with one minute and forty-four seconds to spare.

Sadly for her the train was filled to a brim and she spent a good hour of the ride looking for somewhere to sit. She finally was able to find a cramped seat next to the window, not that it provided much of a view seeing as they were traveling under the English Channel to London.

Elizabeth leaned her head against the cool window and closed her eyes, allowing herself to relax for the first time that day.

"_Grandma! What happened next?"_

Elizabeth's eyes flew open as she sat up straight, back rigid and breathing labored.

Why was this happening to her?

She hadn't thought of her Grandma Madeline in months. She had been so busy at Sorbonne and with her writing and daydreams to even remember her own family let alone her deceased grandmother.

"_Yes, and then all of Cair Paravel erupted in cheers, shouting. Long Live King Peter! Long Live Queen Susan! Long Live King Edmund! Long Live Queen Lucy! And so, right there and then, the Golden Age of Narnia had begun."_

Her grandma's voice was soothing within her ear as Elizabeth relaxed once more and slumped down within her seat.

She remembered that tale…

Of the four Pevensie siblings who traveled through a wardrobe and had come to the magical world of Narnia. They had battled against the White Witch who had held Narnia in her icy grip. After beating the White Witch with the help of the Lion Aslan the four Pevensie's had become the rulers of Narnia thus beginning the Golden Age.

Elizabeth lazily smiled remembering the tale in great detail in her head; the story came to life and was woven like a tapestry and she could see it so clearly that she was almost there. A part of the epic tale of Narnia's independence from the crazed ruler the White Witch.

Oh how she wished she could have been there. How she wished, even to this day, that Narnia was truly real. She would give up anything to live in a place as stunningly beautiful as Narnia.

Suddenly images of snowy mountaintops, glistening seas and the towering castle of Cair Paravel came to mind. Her grandma had drawn so many pictures of Narnia that it only fueled Elizabeth's imagination.

If it hadn't been for her grandma Elizabeth wouldn't be who she was right at that moment.

Her grandma was the one who had inspired her to find her true passion in writing.

While her own family had looked down upon her wild antics and imagination she knew that if her grandma had been living she would have loved it.

Her family did not tolerate her ambition. Her mother thought it rather silly, her father didn't really care, her older brother never ceased to stop calling her a bohemian and her sister wondered why she couldn't be more like her.

But why would Elizabeth want to be like her sister?

All her sister did all day was go to modeling auditions to become the next _Heidi Klum_. That was rather strange in Elizabeth's mind.

But then again Elizabeth was rather strange in Miranda's mind.

Elizabeth sighed and opened her eyes as the intermingling thoughts of Narnia and Miranda washed away. She looked around the train in a bored manner but her eyes widen in interest as she saw a cuddling couple down a little ways away from her.

The girl was a classic beauty, alabaster skin, prominent cheek bones, perfectly symmetrical face and her almost black eyes. Dressed in an outfit that only made her seem more beautiful she intertwined her hand with that of her lover.

The man who could have given Clark Gable a run from his money smiled showing off a dimple in his chin as he stroked her thumb with his forefinger. He leaned down and buried his head within her long neck as he placed a trail of kisses up and down her skin. The woman closed her eyes and smiled calmly and then let out a small giggle as her lover nipped her ear.

The scene caused Elizabeth's heart to flutter.

Young love, so obvious and yet so carefree.

So without another thought Elizabeth took out her notebook and began to write of the pair of lovers before her.

_Wrapped in his warm embrace I shivered with excitement as his fiery kisses grew hotter against my skin. I gasped as he hit that special spot just at the tip of my earlobe and had to giggle when he grinned down at me and I knew then that I never wanted to leave him…_

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**Yes, it's a sequel! I hope everyone remembers Elizabeth from before and I hope everyone is happy that I'm writing again. I have to say it just came to me this morning and I knew I had to write it. **

**So please be kind since it was my birthday yesterday and leave a review! I do not own Chronicles of Narnia. **


	2. Chapter 2

Believer 

_Do not ask questions of __fairy tales__. – Jewish Proverb._

_--_

The London skyline was gray and cheerless. Large nimbus clouds with fluffy white bottoms stretched as far as the eye could see blending in with the grayness of the sky. Trees were bare of their leaves as their limbs stood stock still and danced with the wind erotically.

The air was thick with impending moisture hinting at the rain to come. And come it would. Rushing down to the earth in large sheets, slapping against roofs, splattering down gutters and cascading downward into the sewer beneath the streets.

Yes, it seemed, Elizabeth was home.

She stood outside the Channel Tunnel entrance lightly shivering as she bounced in place to retain some of her body heat. She fiercely rubbed her dry hands together as she wondered, not for the first time, where her dear brother was.

It wasn't like Elliot to be late.

Her suitcase was rooted next to her as she continued to bounce, ignoring the odd looks she was receiving from bystanders who were bundled up in fur and polyester and cotton.

She then cursed herself for forgetting a jacket.

This meant she was cursing herself for getting up late.

This meant she was cursing Hadrienne for not waking her up.

So, all and all, the reason she was shivering in rainy London waiting for her lagging brother was because it was Hadrienne's fault.

Yep, that worked for her.

Deciding to tell her friend that she pulled out her cell phone and quickly dialed Hadrienne's number. As expected it went to voicemail.

"_You have just reached and me as you can hear I am not in. Sucker. After the beep leave a message and I'll think of getting back to you." _

Elizabeth had to laugh at her friend's antics but composed herself as the beep sounded.

"Hadrienne I am standing outside the Channel Tunnel in rainy London shivering without a coat and I have deemed it is your fault. Yes it is your fault that I am standing outside the Channel Tunnel in rainy London shivering without a coat. I hope you're happy."

She snapped the phone shut just as a car came up beside her and honked. She gave a small jump and bent down only to see Elliot grinning up at her, his long shaggy hair falling over his eyes. He opened the car door and sprung out, enveloping Elizabeth in a tight squeeze.

"Aw Lizzy, it's been too long." he remarked with a grin as he rubbed her arms for her, knowing she was almost freezing.

"It's been a month." Elizabeth countered, smiling up at her elder brother by four years.

"Yes, well, it's still a long time." he released Elizabeth and leaned down, easily picking up her suitcase. He threw it in the car and slid in the left side as Elizabeth went around and seated herself on the right side.

"So how's Sorbonne and all the French jazz?" Elliot inquired as his small car took off down the crowded and cramped streets of London. Elizabeth answered him while looking out the window as they passed a bright red Double Decker Bus with people seated atop, their cameras clicking and flashing away.

Ah...tourists.

It seemed that London could never get rid of the annoying buggers with fanny packs and disposable cameras. What a shame.

"Good, good. Great really, I'm taking this great creative writing class and my writing has improved a lot." Elizabeth gushed as Elliot's eyes twinkled mischievously.

"Please tell me that means you've stopped writing those horrible romance slash fantasy stories." he offhandedly commented.

Elizabeth ducked her head as her face burned while Elliot chuckled.

"Don't laugh!" she hissed slapping him on the arm, "They're not horrible."

"You're right…they're rubbish."

He hadn't prepared himself for Elizabeth slamming into him, albeit feebly, so the car swerved for a moment as others honked in protest. Elliot fended Elizabeth off as he laughed loudly. Finally Elizabeth was calmed as she sulked and crossed her arms over her chest.

"You're rubbish." she muttered, loud enough for her brother to hear as he flashed her a grin.

"Means I'm doing my job right."

"What job?"

"Being an older brother."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes but allowed a small smile to grace her heart shaped face. She hardly ever saw her brother anymore and for them to always pick up where they left off was amazing. No matter how far away they got from one another and how long it had been they always just…clicked.

Sadly the same thing could not be said for Miranda.

"So how's the family?" Elizabeth asked conversationally having not spoken to her mother or father in a few weeks. Elliot shrugged as he turned down a side street.

"Same old, same old. Dad works long hours, mum's bitching about this and that and Miranda…well she's being Miranda."

"A conceited, self-centered git?" Elizabeth supplied as Elliot nodded to her.

"Exactly."

"Well it's nice to know nothing's changed in my absence." Elizabeth answered, right on par with her brother. They continued the ride in amiable silence as they drove through London finally coming upon the Samuell townhouse.

After several long moments they were parallel parked in front of the house as Elizabeth hopped out and hurried up to the stoop, leaving Elliot to retrieve her suitcase. He huffed, shook his head as his hair flew out of his eyes and set about to the task.

Luckily for him Elizabeth's suitcase didn't weigh a fraction of what Miranda's usually did.

"Come on old chap!" Elizabeth called from the steps as Elliot rolled his eyes and chucked the suitcase at her, chuckling as she narrowly ducked it. It hit the door instead as the reef hanging from it fell to the ground in a sad heap.

The Samuell children burst out into laughter, holding their sides as tears came to their eyes.

At least…they were doing that till to the door flew open and they were met with their sight of their mother.

That immediately caused the laughter to halt.

"Blimey! Look what you two did to my reef!" she screeched, frowning down at it as Elliot spoke.

"I'll have it hanging back on the door by supper, alright mum?"

She nodded, still dissatisfied and her eyes locked with her daughter.

"Ah, darling, pleasure to have you home as always."

"Mum."

Elizabeth nodded and hugged her mother, grimacing as she kissed her cheek. She wiped at the lipstick stain as she walked into the house, Elliot trailing behind with her suitcase. She walked into the living room to see Miranda lounging in one of the chairs, earphones in her ears as she listened to music from her iPod.

"Miranda, dear, your sister's home."

Miranda looked up at Elizabeth, her blonde ringlets cascading down her shoulders.

"Sis." she greeted in her usual passive manner as she stood and embraced Elizabeth with forced sincerity. Instantly the sweet scent of cherries entered Elizabeth's nostril and she momentarily found it hard to breathe.

"Great to see you to." she chocked out as Miranda released her, flipped her hair over her shoulder, sauntered back to the chair and sat down like it had all been natural.

Wow.

She really was a model in training.

Great.

Elizabeth scratched her head awkwardly, feeling out in place in her common clothes and her tired and disheveled look compared to her perfectly made up sister.

Sometimes life wasn't fair.

Only in fairy tales was everything perfect.

And that's where Miranda belonged, in a fairy tale with her Prince Charming.

Elizabeth looked down as her heart panged. She was the one who still believed in the magic around her, who still waited for her Prince Charming to come and take her away to his castle in the clouds.

It was childish and petty, but it was Elizabeth's dream.

A dream she would never let go of.

Now feeling even more out of place she excused herself, took her suitcase, and rushed up stairs to the safety of her old room.

Her room looked nothing like how she had left it. When she had lived at home it had been covered wall to wall with posters, of books, bands, plays and drawings from artists and friends.

She had had a funky polka dotted comforter with the most outrageous colors, a sturdy yet crude bookshelf containing some of literatures finest works, a closet piled high with second hand clothes from markets, bargain stores and good old handy garage sales.

Now the posters were gone, leaving the wall a pale and bland shade of beige. A blue comforter covered her bed as her polka dotted one now resided in Sorbonne, all the way back in Paris.

At the internal mention of Paris, Elizabeth perked up as she pulled out her cell phone and laid herself down upon the lumpy bed. Odd, she hadn't remembered it being _that _lumpy before…

She placed her weight on her elbows and dialed Hadrienne's number and this time she picked up with a biting remark.

"How on earth is it my fault you stood outside the Channel Tunnel in rainy London shivering without a coat?! It's your fault, _stupide_!" she insulted in French as Elizabeth bit back a smile and rolled her green eyes.

"Don't insult me in French. Besides, I am no longer standing outside the Channel Tunnel in rainy London shivering without a coat, so you're off the hook."

"I feel so much better now." Hadrienne sarcastically quipped as Elizabeth giggled. She sometimes wondered how the two of them were such good friends. With Hadrienne's mood swings and her hostile personality and Elizabeth's naïve-ness and her outlook on life.

But then again Hadrienne was the yin to Elizabeth's yang.

Or Elizabeth was the yin to Hadrienne's yang.

They had had a conversation about it once resulting in a fight and them not speaking for four days, so they saw fit never to bring it up ever again.

"So how's your family?" Hadrienne asked in a bored fashion as Elizabeth told her all of what had happened.

Absolutely nothing.

She endured Hadrienne's taunting while she stood and began pacing back and forth in her room. She walked past her window but stopped as something caught her eye. She looked down into the next yard to see her elder neighbors Mr. and Mrs. Litcott locked in a fiery embrace.

She raised an eyebrow as she swear she could see some French kissing even from this obscure angle.

Her eyes darted to her notebook as she cut off Hadrienne mid sentence.

"Hey Had, I got to run but we'll talk later? Bye." she hung up before Hadrienne could retort. She threw her phone aside and groped for her notebook as she took her place back at the window and began to write quickly.

_Marriage. Even after twenty-seven years together he could still make my heart race… _

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**Please read and review! I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia! **


	3. Chapter 3

Believer 

_"The way to read a fairy tale is to throw yourself in." - W. H. Auden_

_--_

The days crawled by slowly for Elizabeth. She had had nothing to comfort her during drowsy hours of listening to Miranda go on and on about some male model named…well she couldn't exactly remember his name.

Perhaps Fabio…?

Her only solace was her spiral bound notebook with its crisp white pages with the imprints of faded notes etched out across every page.

In the past few days she had fathomed up all kinds of stories inspired by her various neighbors. Writing of Mr. and Mrs. Litcott's never-ending trysts in their gardens, of the suave Miss Gascoigne and her ongoing passionate affair with the mail carrier, and of course young little Mackenzie Pettwood and her awkward yet completely enduring courtship with her next door neighbor the handsome Timothy Etchingham.

With characters such as them Elizabeth's short stories came to life in front of her hazel eyes as she wrote till her hand cramped and then onward, only having stopped when her muscles had screamed in agony.

But when not listening to dear Miranda or writing to her heart's desire Elizabeth could be found in the old glass room curled up cozily on a cushioned bench, book in hand and eyes darting quickly over the words of books.

And that's precisely where she was today. It was a surprisingly sunny day, with shattered beams of sunlight shining down on Elizabeth as her toes clenched while she read on. Her hair was rolling down her shoulders as a single red strand fell from behind her ear to in front of her eye.

She barely batted her eyelashes and breathed in, huffed out and the strand was then curling around her face.

Elizabeth was enjoying the infamous epic the _Iliad _and was at the part where the Greeks were raiding the city of Troy, having entered through the disguise of the wooden horse. She gave a swoon-like sigh as she closed the book shut and leaned her head against the glass window, the coolness of it comforting against her freckled cheek.

How romantic it must have been for Helen. To have had her lover risk all of his country for the sake of their doomed love.

Why couldn't men of today behave like their ancestors centuries ago?

Why were wars now waged over religion and power instead of love and passion? Why was the divorce rate rising with every year? Why were men living as bachelors all their lives and women as spinsters claiming to be _independent_?

That was how Lillian Samuell found her daughter, pondering over the differences of men of today and the past. Lillian seated herself stiffly in a wooden chair in front of Elizabeth and cleared her throat when it had become apparent that her daughter's mind was elsewhere.

Elizabeth looked up startled to see her mother before her and blinked. When had she arrived? And how had she arrived so inconspicuously?

"Mum." Elizabeth greeted, running a hand through her hair as her mother's eyes flashed to the closed book sprawled over Elizabeth's lap. She nodded approvingly at her young one's choice of literature.

"Good read." she observed with a cool casualness as Elizabeth looked down, ran her fingers over the title and nodded.

"Yes, it is."

"What part are you at?"

"When Troy goes up into flames and everything else goes to pot."

"Nice to know it hasn't changed since I last flipped through it." Lillian dryly quipped as Elizabeth grinned and nodded, "I doubt it would or else it would all be terribly anticlimactic."

Lillian nodded as Elizabeth for the first time noticed the fair amount of wrinkles swaying over her mother's forehead. Was her age finally catching up to her? Or was it the brutal side effects of her having worn her hair in a severe bun ever since Elizabeth could remember.

Elizabeth deducted that it was mostly both, seeing as her mother was old and severe.

A lovely combination for a woman who had claimed all her life to be a loving and sweet mother.

"So how is Sorbonne, I forgot to ask earlier." The truth was she hadn't forgotten, she had just been to busy with Miranda to have caught Elizabeth alone and to grill her on her college experience. But even more truthful was that Elizabeth had been thankful that her mother hadn't spent personal one-on-one time with her. But alas, that was no longer…drat.

"Sorbonne…is French. As it should be." Elizabeth gave a little giggle but stop when she saw her mother's hawk like eyes narrow ever so slightly. A warning of sorts to shape up or be set to bed without any dinner or dessert.

Elizabeth's chuckled died in her throat as she coughed to clear it and gazed steadily at her mother, who even at the age of fort-four was still a very intimidating woman who didn't take anything from anyone.

"Sorbonne…is well great. My classes are going remarkably well and I really am learning a lot from my English professor Ms. Huddleston. She just brings everything together and is so very lucid…it's wonderful."

Elizabeth gushed as her dark eyes lit up with her appreciation of writing, something her mother ignored or chose not to understand. Just as Elizabeth was going over the different theories they had been running over in class the doorbell rang cutting Elizabeth off mid word.

"My, I wonder who that could be." Lillian remarked as her eyes flashed dangerously for a moment before returning to their natural state of coldness. Elizabeth stared questioningly at her mother for a moment as the bell sounded again and Lillian exclaimed.

"Well don't just sit here, go on and answer it for goodness sake." Her voice was crisp and her command final. With a heavy and defeated sigh Elizabeth rose, leaving the _Iliad _reluctantly behind. She walked through the house; her purple sock covered feet lightly slapping the wood flooring as she came out of the parlor and stood in the foyer in front of the front door.

She undid the lock and hatch and the pulled the door open to be met with an unpleasant surprise. For who stood before her was a bane in her side that she had thought she was rid of long ago.

That bane in her side would be none other than Jeremy Bradbridge.

Standing before her looking the same as ever with jet black hair slicked back, eyelashes longer than any normal person, male or female, should have, pale skin making his green eyes pop unnaturally. He hadn't changed at all since school.

They had been…_friendly_ of sorts to each other during their formative teenage years. They had shared secretive glances and rapid kisses in empty classrooms, pointless conversations at various hours of the night and a few sneaking out to be with each other in the winter chill.

Yes, than had been more than friendly…they had been madly in puppy love. They had vowed to always be with one another, to marry and move to the countryside with their picket fence, dog and two children. But like most vows coming from the mind of thoughtless teenagers, they had hardly lasted their last year of school.

So it was quite a shock to Elizabeth to see ol' Jeremy Bradbridge standing before her with his black hair, long eyelashes, green eyes and pale skin. Quite a shock, indeed, to say the least.

"What are you doing here?" Elizabeth blurted out as Jeremy raised a thick eyebrow and laughed.

"Is that how the French greet each other now? Because I must say, I prefer the English greeting instead."

Elizabeth glowered at him and leaned against her doorframe, arms crossed over her chest as she eyed him, waiting. Finally after several long moments he caved and with a sigh gritted out.

"I heard you were back on holiday leave."

"Correct."

"And I heard that you would be staying here."

"Also correct, job well done Jeremy, you must feel so proud."

He ignored the sharpness of her tone and continued onward.

"And I was hoping that we could go out, for old time's sake."

Just as Elizabeth was about to open her mouth to refuse a cheerful voice declared from behind them,

"I think that would be a marvelous idea."

Elizabeth turned on her heel to see her mother standing there, severe bun and all.

"You do?!" Elizabeth asked as Lillian nodded, a Cheshire grin stretching out across her thin face.

"Yes, I do. Go on darling get out, enjoy yourself." Her grin was too large, eyes too bright and demeanor too happy. Elizabeth knew right away that this had been a carefully and precisely planned setup.

"You invited him over." Elizabeth accusingly hissed as her mother's grin widened ever so slightly, an answer to her allegation.

"You two have fun now." Lillian all but shoved Elizabeth and Jeremy out the door as Elizabeth cried out appallingly.

"I don't even have shoes on!" she wiggled her sock covered feet for good measure.

The only answer to that was a par of boots being chucked at her head.

--

"It's not funny!" Elizabeth gritted out through clenched teeth to the nearly sobbing Hadrienne on the other line.

"Yes it is! You would be laughing too if it had happened to some poor lass and not you." Hadrienne argued back as Elizabeth debated whether on countering further but decided against it. Truth be told she would be in hysterics too if it had happened to someone else.

But it had happened to her so she was in no mood to see the funny side of things.

"Shut up, your mum never forced you on a date with your ex and all but threw you out of the house." she muttered back, stretched lazily out on the couch in the living room of the Samuell household. It was past sunset and Elizabeth's parents were out and about at some charity event or another sponsored by Elizabeth's father's firm.

While Elizabeth did believe in reuniting with former loves she did not see that ever happening to her and Jeremy. And their date had proven her theory undeniably right. The poor chap never stopped speaking of his time at King's College London and all the girls that were throwing themselves at his tailored feet.

It had been a painful reminder as to why the pair had broken up little over a year ago. And while there were some roads Elizabeth was willing to go down in the name of love, Jeremy would never be walking alongside her.

Elizabeth was about to respond but was interrupted when the front door opened and in walked Miranda. Elizabeth hastily said goodbye to her friend just as Miranda expertly wiggled from her leather jacket and sprawled herself in the lounging chair next to the couch.

"Elizabeth." she greeted solemnly as Elizabeth replied in the same.

"Miranda."

The two Samuell girls sat in silence as Elizabeth's mind began to wander to other places. Not of romance but of the past. Being home again it brought back so many memories.

_Long Live King Peter! Long Live Queen Susan! Long Live King Edmund! Long Live Queen Lucy!_

The memory floated into her head as she glanced at her sister who was graciously picking at her nails.

"Miranda, remember when we were younger and Grandma Madeline would tell us stories of that country hidden in a wardrobe? Remember Narnia?"

Miranda looked up in disinterest before shrugging.

"Sure, it's hard to forget old loony Grandma Madeline's stories. I remember this one about a witch or something or other…completely out there if you know what I mean."

"The White Witch and it wasn't such a crazy story."

Miranda snorted and retorted, "That's because you have the mental capacity of a five year old. You and your stupid fairy tales, no wonder mum is always so worried about you."

Elizabeth fumed from her spot; it was one thing to insult her it was another thing entirely to insult her fairy tales. Miranda sensing her sister's sore feelings decided to make amends by going a different route. With a dramatic sigh she spoke.

"If you really want to revisit Narnia or whatever it's called, go one up to the attic. Grandma Madeline's old paintings are still up there."

Elizabeth jumped up from the couch and flew up the stairs, wasting no time. She came upon the hallway and froze right under the strand of rope hanging from the attic hatch. She yanked down on the rope and the ladder popped out with rusty ease.

She stepped forward and made her way up the creaky steps; she pushed the wooden hatch open and immediately found herself in the murky and dusty darkness of the attic. She breathed in the dust and hacked it out as she groped for the light switch.

She finally found it and dim rays of light scattered about the room. It took her only moment for her eyes to adjust to the overcast of shadows lurking about around her. She hesitantly stepped forward as her eyes took in the numerous shapes and sizes of picture frames, all concealing her grandmother's pride.

Elizabeth took her time moving around the room, peering at every drawing and painting, letting every imprint be permanently etched into her mind. Flashbacks from long ago swept in and out of her mind so quickly everything was becoming muddled together into one large memory.

Just as she placed down a beaming portrait of a towering castle another painting caught her eye. It was of four rulers, two men and two women, all seated upon plush thrones with golden and silver crowns woven through their thick manes of hair.

_To the glistening Eastern Sea, I give you Queen Lucy the Valliant. To the great Western Woods, King Edmund the Just. To the radiant Southern Sun, Queen Susan the Gentle. And to the clear Northern Skies, King Peter the Magnificent. _

She could hear the airy voice of Grandma Madeline in her ear as her eyes trained on the face of the dark haired youth, King Edmund the Just. Of all her visions of her grandmother the one of her staring at this portrait of King Edmund always stood out the brightest.

She remembered how Madeline's eyes had softened and her voice's tone had changed just enough to tell you that something had changed within her. And the way she had gazed at the young king's face.

It had been like they were in love.

Elizabeth gave a little chuckle and shook her head. It seemed the dust was getting to her. Her gaze moved from King Edmund to his brother, King Peter. With his sturdy face, warrior build and cascading golden locks he was a very handsome man.

"I bet you could sweep any woman off her feet, High King Peter the Magnificent." she placed the picture down and just as she did so she heard a crash from behind her. She turned quickly; hand poised to her heart, and found herself alone in the attic, a frame lying at her feet.

How odd, for a picture to just fall like that.

With an embarrassed smile she bent down to pick the picture up and stared thoughtfully down at it. It was different than the others; it was not of rulers or seas, mountains or castles. Its color scheme wasn't bright nor brilliant but dreary with browns and greens.

It was of a marshland.

Just as she was to look away something within the picture caught her eye. The murky water of the marsh was…moving. The swells of its waves moving quicker and quicker as the sound of a humid environment began to engulf Elizabeth.

She tried to let go, to stand back to run far away. But she couldn't, a vice like grip fell over her as her feet left the ground and her head began to felt heavy. But she couldn't look away from the picture.

She only did when she fell into darkness and heard the distant ringing of a mighty roar.

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**Please read and review! I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia! **


	4. Chapter 4

Believer 

_"In a utilitarian age, of all other times, it is a matter of grave importance that fairy tales should be respected." – Charles Dickens. _

_--_

South of the River Shribble resided the dreary Northern Marsh. The tall grass and cat tails swayed gently in the setting sun as the thin layer of humidity that enveloped the marsh day after day began to evaporate away with the cool air sweeping in from the Eastern Ocean.

The hoarse sound of frogs could be clearly heard as could the hum of mosquitoes as they rose to the sky for their nightly activities. The warm sun's setting rays glowed over the marsh making it seem, for once, lovely.

Though the marsh was not a land of beauty it was peaceful and that was something that all the soldiers of the Narnian Army greatly appreciated. They were scattered through the expanse of marshland, sleeping in large wigwams cramped together as all were polite, by orders of High King Peter, to their depressed hosts, the Marsh-wiggles.

Just as the golden sun dipped beneath the waves of the Eastern Ocean a highly regarded panther slid through the tall grass and cat tails with expert ease. Her paws were not heard as she padded over the soggy and unstable earth beneath her. She halted for a moment and stood stock still, ears perked, head tilted and pale yellow eye narrowed.

After a moment she lunged to the right and took off, her slim body racing through the marsh. She headed west of the campsite housing her fellow soldiers and her king.

She went onward till she came to a secluded area of the marsh and was met was a surprise. A young girl, sodden, dirty, and muddy lying in a ruined traditional Narnian gown. Dristi, the Black Panther, cautiously stepped toward the fallen human and prodded her nose against the girl's cheek.

The girl gave a muffled groan as she was turned onto her back revealing a pretty heart shaped face to Dristi. The human's eyes blearily blinked open as the golden eyes locked with a mixture of brown and green. Elizabeth tilted her head to the side and wearily stared at the large black face before her.

"Huh." she murmured and turned on her side, curling into a tight ball, not seeing the confusion crossing Dristi's face. The panther watched with interest as the girl's body tensed and in an instant she was on her feet shrieking like a banshee.

"On my bloody God!? How is this possible? How possible is that I, who was looking through portraits painted by my dead grandmother, am now in a swamp with a freaking panther?"

"It is the Northern Marsh in which you now dwell, stranger. And my name is Dristi, if it is of any importance to you."

Elizabeth froze and slowly turned towards the panther and gaped at it.

"Did you just…_talk_?"

At Dristi's nod, Elizabeth promptly clamped her mouth shut and closed eyes.

"How could this have happened?" she murmured to herself as she replayed the last few moments in her head. She had been standing in the attic looking over old pictures of her Grandma Madeline's. She had been holding the picture of the marsh and bam, she had ended up here.

All the pictures had been of…

"Just wondering, what…what country are we in?"

Dristi stared at the two footed creature in slight annoyance. How was it that she always ended up meeting the lunatics of Narnia? Why couldn't Oreius deal with them? He was general of the army after all.

"You're in the marshlands of Narnia, north of castle Cair Paravel."

"Hmm, thought so. Well, I'm Elizabeth and you said your name was…?"

"Dristi."

"Right, well Dristi do you have any idea how I ended up…_here_?" Elizabeth gestured around her as Dristi shook her head.

"No, I was taking a stroll through the marshes and stumbled upon you, mud clad and face down in the dirt."

Elizabeth looked down at herself to indeed find mud caked to her ruined flowing gown. Odd, she hadn't been wearing that before. Overlooking her state of dress, Elizabeth laced her fingers together and pondered over what to do next. She was now stranded in a country that she had been told of stories of when she was younger.

So all the stories Grandma Madeline had told her…were real, absolutely real.

Marvelous.

She looked at Dristi who had settled herself down and was lazily flicking her tail back and forth, watching as Elizabeth paced back and forth. Elizabeth looked to the sky to see it darkening rather quickly. So running was out of the question. Well where would she run to anyway? She was an alien in a foreign country with only a few memories to rely on.

No, she would need to rely on the panther before her.

At the look at utter defeat on Elizabeth's face, Dristi took that as her cue to stand and began walking back towards the campsite.

"Come with me, young one, we shall find you clothing and shelter for the evening."

Elizabeth picked up her skirts and ran forward to keep pace with the panther's long strides. She only took a step forward when both of her legs sank into the watery earth, consuming her to her waist.

"Well this is awkward." she surmised as she struggled to free herself from the earth's surprising vice like grip. Dristi gave a frustrated sigh and went to Elizabeth's side.

"Hold onto me."

"What if I hurt you?"

"You won't. Now do it, human." At Dristi's sharp tone Elizabeth felt compelled to obey as she wrapped her arms around Dristi's sleek torso and the panther urged herself forward. After several tedious tries Elizabeth was lying on the ground, her gown ruined more than ever.

"Thank you." She said appreciatively to the panther with a genuine smile as she wiped her muddy hands on her dress. At the girl's heartfelt smile Dristi nodded back and then nodded her head forward.

"Come, I am expected back at camp."

The odd pair walked in silence for the rest of the journey. Elizabeth shivered a little in the cold night air and stepped a tad bit closer to the panther that looked at her questioningly. With a chuckle, Elizabeth stood back and wrapped her arms around her, keeping her distance as she followed Dristi.

Truly, she wasn't frightened or scared to be in Narnia. In the back of her mind, she had always known something like this would happen to her. Albeit, not being transported to a country that had grandmother had told her tales of. But still, she always knew something special was awaiting her.

She had just always thought that that something special would be in her own world, not in Narnia. But beggars can't be choosers. Elizabeth looked up and made a grunt of relief when she saw promising embers and flickers on the horizon.

Fires. Fire meant people. People meant food. Just thinking of food was enough to make her stomach grumble loudly in protest and she remembered the last thing she had eaten. It had been a salad on her dreadful date with Jeremy Bradbridge. She was normally not a salad type of girl but she had wanted the date to be as quick and painless as possible.

Dristi laughed from beside her and remarked.

"Hungry, are you?"

Elizabeth quickly nodded and placed her hands over her stomach, trying to silent the body part.

"We'll see what we can do for you once we arrive at camp."

Only moments after she spoke they were arrived at the outskirt of the heavily supplied camp. They walked past fairly spaced wigwams as fires burned outside of them with groups of mythical beings all crowded around them for warmth.

Elizabeth gazed on as they passed centaurs, fauns, nymphs and all other sorts of common animals.

"My goodness." she whispered in awe as they continued onward. As they came to the heart of the camp Elizabeth realized that those around her had now taken an interest in her. She felt the numerous stares of eyes upon her and nervously ran her fingers over the helm of her skirt.

She wasn't use to such attention. Attention had always been Miranda's cup of tea. By now creatures alike were following behind Elizabeth, murmuring and whispering around her as the full weight of their stares began to dig at Elizabeth.

Dristi and Elizabeth came to a stop as a centaur emerged from the crowd to stand before them. He was simply beautiful. With flowing dark curly hair to match the fur of his horse legs and a rough and angular face, enhancing his umber brown eyes. Dressed in silver and red armor, two mighty claymore swords sheathed at his sides.

Dristi bowed her head to the centaur that stood nearly three heads taller than Elizabeth. Elizabeth lowered her eyes in turn and began to play with her fingers, self-consciously cracking them one by one.

"Whose is this?" The centaur, Oreius, asked with a deep and rich voice. Elizabeth suddenly found her mouth too dry to answer so Dristi answered in turn.

"She calls herself Elizabeth. I found her lying in the outskirts of the marshlands, in the present disheveled state that she is in."

Elizabeth gave a nervous giggle as she realized how fully underdressed she was. How was she to make a presentable impression when she looked no better than a lowly pauper? What would her mum say?

Elizabeth winced at the almost whispered insult her mother could come up with. Her mother could be quite brutal and cruel when she chose to be.

"Just lying there?" Oreius inquired as Dristi nodded.

"Yes, it was quite…_strange_ to find her there." Dristi glanced at Elizabeth as her eyes narrowed for a moment before she turned back to Oreius.

"I think it would be best if she had an audience with the king."

Oreius reached up and stroked the hair of his chin as he nodded.

"Yes, I shall attend to that. Feed her and have her ready within a half hour's time."

The crowd dispersed and Elizabeth was led away to a wigwam where a plate of cooked and cut up fish was sitting, already prepared for her. Elizabeth launched herself at the food and gulped it down greedily as Dristi watched with little interest.

"What kind of fish was that? It was wonderful." Elizabeth gushed happily, having consumed the plate within a few minute's time.

"Mudfish."

"Hmm…it's chewy." Elizabeth amended as she set the plate down and stretched out, feeling at peace for the first time since she had arrived in Narnia.

"Dristi?" she asked with closed eyes before continuing, "What king shall I be seeing?"

"High King Peter."

Elizabeth opened her eyes and stared at the panther.

"High King Peter the Magnificent?"

"Who else is there?"

"I can't meet him!"

"And why not?"

"I'm hardly dressed for an audience with a king. Much less a high king!"

"You look fine to me."

"I'm covered in mud!" Elizabeth gestured at herself for emphasis as Dristi shrugged.

"I doubt his majesty shall care what state you show yourself to him."

Elizabeth sighed and pulled her knees to her chest as she placed her cheek against her kneecap. Feeling tired she dozed for what seemed like a minute before having to get up and follow Dristi to a wigwam in the center of the Narnian campsite. Dristi nudged her forward as Elizabeth stumbled forward and looked back.

"Dristi, is it anyway possible for me to acquire some paper…er parchment?"

"What for?" Dristi's eyes flashed as she asked while Elizabeth answered modestly.

"Writing." Seeing that Elizabeth's intentions were innocent, Dristi nodded and turned, stalking off. Elizabeth watched her go with a sense of dread. How was she supposed to do this alone? She looked to the opening of the wooden home and with a sigh and mental encouragement walked in.

The wigwam was better furnished than the crude one Elizabeth had been in as carpets covered the dirt floor, a wooden map table stood in the corner covered in parchment with a candle seated on it, a pallet rested in the other corner heavily supplied with quilts and furs.

Elizabeth continued to look around as a voice asked, "Like it, don't you?"

Elizabeth gasped and turned to see a man, half hidden in the shadows watching her with evident amusement.

"I find it quite charming too," he continued on as he stepped forward and Elizabeth was met with the sight of the High King Peter the Magnificent. He looked even better than Grandma's Madeline life-like painting.

He stood before her in a scarlet red tunic with matching breeches and dark brown boots pulled up to his knees. A sword was securely hanging at his hips and a golden engraved crown rested upon his blonde head. His blue eyes twinkled as he motioned for Elizabeth to sit down in one of the plush chairs.

"Sit, sit Lady…?"

"Elizabeth, I'm Elizabeth Samuell."

The king smiled at her as he sat across from her, his eyes quickly doing the once over of her.

"It seems you've had quite the time with the mud." he spoke with a chuckle as Elizabeth's cheeks burned and she lowered her head in shame. She fiddled with her skirt as the king cleared his throat and peered thoughtfully at her.

"Speaking of mud, how did you happen to end up in the Northern Marsh?"

Elizabeth looked up at the king like a deer in the headlights before quickly shrugging.

"I…I don't know. I just…sort of…ended up here." Her words were slow, calculated and hesitant. The king noted this as he leaned slightly towards her, the palms of his calloused hands resting on the silk knees of his breeches.

"You don't know?" His eyes were guarded as he continued, "Well, where are you from? You can't be Narnian, you don't seem like you would be from Archenland and you're too fair to be from Calormen. Perhaps from Galma, then? Are you from the Lone Islands, from Avra or Felimath? Or do you dwell from Duffer Isle or the Seven Isle?"

"I'm from none of the places you mentioned…your majesty." Elizabeth added as an afterthought, momentarily forgetting that she was speaking with true royalty. The king sat back in his chair and stroked his beard in much the same way Oreius had done before.

"By the Lion! Where are you from then?" There was a hint of frustration underlined in the tone of his voice, but the general emotion the king was showing, was curiosity. Elizabeth pondered over the possible answers before picking the suitable one.

"I'm from…_around_." At the king's raised eyebrow, Elizabeth explained, "It's a long and very complicated story. I would like to tell you, truly I would, but I just can't, not right now."

The king sighed but nodded, the truth was he was no stranger to complicated stories. It seemed his life at some points was one large complicated story.

"Very well then, until you are able to find your way home, I would be honored Lady Samuell if you were to be a guest of the Narnian Army."

Elizabeth faintly smiled, excitement burning through her blood. She was on her way to an adventure, she could feel it. She nodded vigorously causing a laugh from the king as he stood and moved to a chest lying at the foot of his makeshift mattress. He rummaged through it for several moments before coming back to Elizabeth's side and handing her a pair of heavy brown breeches, a flowing blue tunic, and leather belt and boots.

"So you shall not have to wear that for the duration of your stay," was his explanation as Elizabeth beamed and nodded.

"Thank you, your majesty, thank you very kindly."

The king nodded for her to go as Elizabeth took her leave and with the help of a kindly cheetah found her way back to her wigwam. It was empty but Elizabeth spied a roll of parchment neatly a top the fur pelt covering Elizabeth's newest bed.

She gave a happy smile as she stripped herself of her ruined garments and changed quickly into those of the king's. The tunic fell all the way to her hips as she fastened the belt around her waist to uphold the trousers and she slipped into the boots that ran up the entire length of her leg to right above her knee. Not surprising they were several sizes too large, but it was better than the pinched pair of flats that had been on Elizabeth's person since she had arrived in Narnia.

She pulled her messy hair back, out of her eyes, and all but threw herself down on her pallet. She sat upright, back against the wood of the wigwam, and by the light of the fire began to quickly write with the aid of her ink quill.

_The moment I first met High King Peter the Magnificent, I knew that I would forever be smitten with his kindness and would forever be lost to the blueness of his eyes…_

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**Please read and review! I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia! **


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